


Hazards of the Job

by Skalidra



Series: DC Mirror!verse [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Anal Sex, Consent Issues, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mirror Universe, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9560888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: Both Tim and Jason have been assigned to the Titan, a semi-deep space station isolated from the rest of the Empire that serves as a testing ground for both recruits fresh from the Academy, and Starfleet officers being more severely disciplined. All of it held together by a backbone of more permanent security to keep things mildly in control, and unfortunately, one of them has their eye on Tim.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the Mirror!verse! So, this is just a shorter piece, going into what the Titan that was mentioned last time is like. Also, the less-pleasant sides of being a lowest-ranked person in a society like this. (And the lengths Tim will go to for this whole game.) Enjoy!

The Titan is every bit what Tim had heard it was. A killing ground doubling as a testing field. A way to weed out the weak, or the reckless, or the arrogant-to-the-point-of-foolishness recruits from the Academy. A place for the lucky, and the deserving, to earn a name for themselves. After all, anyone who survives it will have that name on their record forever, and a certain prestige comes with that.

(Captain Grayson was on the Titan for a short year, before he murdered his way onto a position on then-Captain Wayne's ship via a Lieutenant that had been sent there as discipline. He hears that Admiral Wayne was on it too, but those records have been more difficult to get a hold of.)

A semi deep-space station, tucked away in a corner of the galaxy where nothing ever _really_ happens. A mix of Ensigns fresh from the Academy, a selection of various ranked officers from a variety of ships who have committed offenses serious enough to be assigned here, and a complement of security officers to keep things from erupting into complete chaos. To be assigned here as discipline is very nearly a death sentence; every young power-hungry recruit on the station knows that the easiest way to gain a position off of this place is to take that position from one of the ranked officers.

A report goes back to Command once a week; otherwise, unless there's a serious problem, a ship comes by once a year. That's the opportunity. Tim doesn't plan on spending more than a year here, if he's got any choice in the matter. Considering the way that Captain Grayson had smiled at him when he got his assignment at graduation, and the wink, he thinks he's got a fairly good chance. This is a test he has no intention of failing.

The complication is that the crew on this station is rough, to put it diplomatically, and Jason doesn't have the status or the reputation to keep all of them off of him. Not without risking death, anyway. Tim can fend off most of the advances on his own, and a sharp glare and intimidating look from Jason scares off most of the rest, but there are certain people that he can't simply scare away. People he can't kill either.

The man backing Tim into the corner is no one special. One of the security grunts assigned to keep relative order on the Titan station until the yearly ship comes through to ferry the lucky ones away. This one is big, a little smarter than most but that doesn't mean all that much, and unfortunately interested in Tim.

Even more unfortunately, the time hasn't come to slit the bastard's throat yet. Tim can't show his hand, not this early. He doesn't have enough power to survive if everyone realizes he's a threat; he's put a lot of hard work into looking like he's not one.

Fingers come up, curling over the front of his throat and pinning him back against the bulkhead. He lifts his chin, presses his hands to the metal and tilts his head as he parts his lips a little, though the hand isn't nearly tight enough to actually make him gasp. Crewman Magnussen's eyes darken, mouth curling in the smirk of a man who thinks he's winning.

"Your owner fucked you today, little doll?" he asks, voice low and possessive.

Tim looks up through the fall of his bangs, letting his back arch just a touch. "Yes," he answers, honestly. No point in lying there.

The fingers on his throat tighten a fraction. "Good. I like it when he's already fucked you open; leaves you nice and wet for me." He's let go, but only enough that Crewman Magnussen can flip him around and shove him face first into the bulkhead, before the fingers curl into his hair instead. "Maybe I should take you both, and keep him around to fuck you on command. Bet you're pretty when you're all sensitive from a first time."

He doesn't answer; isn't expected to. The Crewman is already stripping his pants off, leaving them at his ankles before his legs are kneed apart. The hand in his hair pulls, forcing him to arch, as the other hand grabs his hip and drags him to a better angle. Then there's the sound of the other zipper being dropped, and just a second later Crewman Magnussen is shoving into him. He fights not to grit his teeth, only letting a small gasp escape so that there's no motivation to be rougher; being silent isn't a good defense against men like this.

It hurts. Jason did take him earlier, like he wanted, but that was hours ago and the lack of other prep means that this hurts. That's not unfamiliar; he can work around it. Pain isn't his thing, but he knows how to make himself react even if the sex is terrible. Crewman Magnussen likes it better when he can be left hard and 'wanting' at the end of it.

Crewman Magnussen is actually one of the easiest people he's ever had to 'entertain.' There's a bit of mocking beforehand, some humiliation at the end, but otherwise all that ever happens is that he gets fucked. None of the usual banter that idiots like this always seem to want to make him engage in during the act, none of the 'making' him beg, none of the 'forcing' him to enjoy it too.

The slap of skin on skin is nothing new. Neither is the yank of fingers in his hair, or the heavy breath of the Crewman behind him. He knows all the signs by now; knows just how to play this. Enough sounds to make them seem reluctant, edged with pain but still primarily pleasure, and his hands stay against the wall. Security grunts like to feel like he's submitting to them, even if it's only half-true at best.

(He thinks about the day he'll make Captain, when he'll be able to gut anyone who dares to try and make him do anything. Or set Jason on them, if he wants a show.)

Magnussen doesn't take all that long. There's a harsh bite to the side of his neck at the end — he almost rolls his eyes, but constrains the urge at the last moment — and then the shove of hips hard enough to crush him up against the wall. He fakes a jittering moan, scraping his nails against the wall for added effect as he waits for it to end. Which it does, once Crewman Magnussen is finished grinding him into the bulkhead and actually pulls out, letting him (artfully) slide to the floor, twisted just enough that his bare legs are partially outstretched along the floor, and his waist is still turned in so that his ass is plainly visible.

Magnussen licks a faint tinge of blood off his lips, casually redoing his belt. "Always nice and tight; you should always be under me, little doll. I'd treat you better than that rough kid you got holding onto you now; someone better deserves to be fucking that ass of yours more often. Twice a day, at least." Magnussen leans down, grabs his arm and pulls him up.

The force that he's shoved against the bulkhead with actually does cost him a bit of breath, before the hand not gripping his arm tight enough to bruise sweeps up and rubs a thumb over the fresh bite on his neck. Apparently he just wasn't marked well enough to be satisfying before that.

"What do you think, sweet thing? I'd treat you good, so long as you got on your knees when I wanted." The smirk is back, and Tim's being crowded back against the wall again. "Pretty little thing like you needs someone to protect him; you think Todd's going to be good enough to do that?"

It's not hard to force himself to shiver, and then to give a low, strained groan, twitching his hips to draw attention to the fact that he's hard, which should make this a little bit less dangerous.

"Dolls don't choose their owners," he breathes, avoiding the question. Then, when the look in Crewman Magnussen's eyes turns a little dangerous, a little distantly predatory, he adds, "He can't compare to you, sir; he's no threat."

 _Don't go after him_ , is what sits behind his words. Jason's taken enough over the years on his behalf; it's what they agreed to in the first place. Jason can take the pain, he can take the beatings and the aggression and the blood, and Tim is willing enough to prostrate himself before anyone that demands it, if that's what must happen. Only one person has ever seen through that agreement, or seen their partnership for what it really is.

Captain Grayson will be paid back for his lesson, someday.

"True," comes the quiet agreement. "When you get tired of him, little doll, say the word and I'll make sure he knows who's in control. Strip the flesh off his back and leave him bleeding."

He presses his throat a little bit into the thumb against it, and flutters his eyelashes as he answers, "I'll keep that in mind, sir. If he hurts me, you'll be the first to know."

He gets a pleased smirk for his utterly false words, before Crewman Magnussen's gaze rakes down his still covered chest and to his hips. "Desperate little thing; maybe someday I'll let you actually come. Someday when you're mine."

He's flipped around again, hips tugged out, and he gives a more honest shiver at the feeling of hands gripping his ass and pulling it apart to bare him. A groan of satisfaction, before a hand lets go and _slaps_ one side of his ass hard enough to sting and make him tense, reflexively. A moment, and then the other hand slaps the other side, a little harder.

"Keep nice and tight for me, Ensign," Magnussen murmurs into his ear, fingers rubbing in against him. "Maybe later I'll pay you another visit; see if you're still wet for me. I don't want to find a mess back here, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Tim answers, making sure his voice is a little breathless.

"Good pet." Another slap, and then a low laugh before he's shoved into the bulkhead. "Get back to work, Ensign Drake. Wouldn't want a mark on your record, would you, boy?"

He lowers his gaze, shutting away all trace of his disdain to say, "Thank you for your instruction, sir."

He knows enough to wait until Magnussen's footsteps have rounded the edge of the corner to crouch down and gather his pants back up. He runs his fingers through his hair to at least get the worst of the tangles out of the back of it, adjusts himself as best he can to make the encounter a little less obvious, and heads out. There's nothing he can do about the bite mark, or the smell, but the rest of it is hidden with long practice. (He does find himself hoping that Magnussen doesn't return; one time without entirely adequate prep is endurable, twice may more seriously hurt him.)

Jason, back in main Engineering, takes one glance at him and knows, but apart from some narrowed eyes no reaction comes. Jason doesn't like the fact that he's submitting to this, but he does recognize the necessity. Tim defending himself against some other fresh Ensign with an ego is one thing — he'd be looked down on and considered mostly worthless if he had _no_ fight to him — but going against a security officer is another game. Those aren't rookies, and they're a lot more dangerous than ninety percent of the rest of the crew on this station.

For now, he just has to endure it. Play the game. And when he does graduate from this station?

He'll gladly have Jason rip Magnussen's throat out.


End file.
